


Untouchables

by RickishMorty, tanuki_mapache



Series: Commissions [5]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Blood and Injury, Blood and Torture, Citadel of Ricks, Gang Rape, Gang Violence, Genital Torture, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Locos Mortys, M/M, Minor Violence, Physical Abuse, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Violence, Torture, Underage Rape/Non-con, Violence, Violent Sex, mortycest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:47:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25137130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RickishMorty/pseuds/RickishMorty, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanuki_mapache/pseuds/tanuki_mapache
Summary: Mortys Locos, Spikes and Knuckles, are a dangerous gang of Mortytown.They're fast, violent, letale.But they're just mice, in a Citadel of Ricks.
Relationships: Morty Smith/Morty Smith
Series: Commissions [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1780525
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tanuki_mapache](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanuki_mapache/gifts).



> Thank you DimensionTanuki for commissioning me on her characters <3
> 
> VERY CRUDE, DON'T READ IF YOU DON'T LIKE

**Arts by DimensionTanuki**

**<https://twitter.com/DimensionTanuki> **

The Citadel was theirs.

They moved furtively, like cats, very fast in the night and silent, perfectly coordinated with each other. Where one went, the other went, following him step by step, like two invisible silhouettes against the roofs, on the fire escape, in the dirty and abandoned alleys of Mortytown.

There were only two Locos, but they were worth ten.

The athletic physicists of the two Mortys jumped from one roof to the other, like two experienced thieves who already knew where to hit, and how. They were following two other Mortys: they were to be part of the Hydra gang, almost certainly. The Pissed of Bastards dressed differently. In any case, this changed little.

The two Mortys landed with a leap behind the rival gang, without making a single sound. They were very similar clothes, with a dirty and worn shirt, differentiated only by a green sweatshirt that one of them was wearing. Their weapons were also different; one had a brass knuckle, while the other held a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire in his hands.

"Cuckoo".

One of the Hydra spun around, being hit in the face by the baseball bat, which made him spit blood from his mouth, knocking him to the ground. The other did not have time to react, which was hit by the other in the stomach, then in the mouth. He also fell to the ground, still reactive, unlike the other who had passed out instantly.

The Morty with the bat, Spikes, loaded it again, ready to tuck him in his head, before he pulled out a small knife tied to his ankle, injuring the left thigh of the Morty who had thrown him to the ground, Knuckles. The boy moaned, in a high-pitched and shrill voice, while the other knocked down the bat on his opponent's hand, crushing it to the ground. As Knuckles pressed his hand against the wound, Spikes gave Hydra a final blow, causing him to collapse on the ground. He pushed his companion, awakening him from pain and urging him to rummage in the pockets of the two passed out Mortys, taking all he could.

A smoke bomb, fifty dollars, a few grams of weed and two small knives: after having grabbed the spoils, the two ran away, as fast and silent as before. Only after a while, Knuckles began to limp, slowing down, but without asking for help: there was no need. Spikes turned, puffing angrily and running to meet him.

"I-I can do it."

"Of course".

He loaded him on his shoulders, by force, without this slowing down his run in the least. Knuckles laced his hands around his neck, refraining from resting his head on his: that would have been too much. They remained silent until they arrived in the internal courtyard of a building, turning into a dark, abandoned basement, hidden by bins that nobody had cleaned for years. Spikes left Knuckles on the bed, immediately lowering the hood of his sweaty green sweatshirt: his long hair, tied in a messy high tail, were all stuck to his sweat-soaked forehead.

"How the fuck have I told you to get away after you throw them on the ground?"

"S-sorry, I-I thought he was-"

"Passed out? MINE was passed out, because I know how to get a job done. "

Knuckles remains silent, looking down on the ground with an unbearable frown. Spikes looked down, seeing the floor tinged with red, the blood dripping from his leg. He snorted, going to get their (skinny) first aid kit: a few bandages and an almost finished whiskey that acted as a disinfectant. He knelt in front of him, lifting his pants with an angry jerk, observing the wound closely. Knuckles held his breath, seeing him so close to him, swallowing for disappointing him again, but thanking it for being "cured" by his hands. In fact, Knuckles was the best at applying bandages and disinfecting wounds, but Spikes would never admit it, nor did he care about holding that record. For obvious reasons.

Spikes poured whiskey on his wound and Knuckles blew between his lips, squeezing the sheets to refrain from showing the pain that his partner hated so much.

Knuckles watched him move his fingers full of cuts, marks and wounds on his thigh, wrapping it with the ruined and dirty bandage, the last one that was left. He looked at his concentrated, serious, distant eyes: they were dangerous, of those who you could cross on the street, not forgetting them and dream them at night. Street eyes, grown up in the midst of things that a kid shouldn't or even know.

Bad eyes. But beautiful eyes.

Different from his.

Spikes stood up, finally looking at him. Knuckles did not know that Spikes too was fixated in his gaze, in need of those dreamer eyes, freer and lighter than his own, which led him out of that basement, from that Citadel, from that life they had not chosen and from the madness and the genius of their grandparents had imposed on everyone.

Knuckles remained silent, dazed, watching Spikes staring at him sternly, before raising his hand in front of his face: it was completely covered in blood. His blood. Knuckles frowned, looking at hims and then staring at his companion.

"Lick it".

Spikes hadn't changed his expression, remaining serious, without emotions that changed his gaze.

"Get your shit off me."

Knuckles looked nervously at the hand, before trying to take it with his; Spikes slapped it away abruptly, lifting one corner of his mouth.

"I said lick it."

Knuckles took a deep breath, starting to feel nervous: it was the usual games of his companion, which always made him uncomfortable. Those games who aimed to harden him, to forge him, to make him inflexible and untouchable by anything. If life was hard, they had to be harder. Untouchable.

The boy with the most marked tattoos on his face approached the other's hand, stretching his tongue to lick his palm, giving small laps, initially. The bitter and ferrous taste annoyed his taste buds, but he didn't stop. He continued to lick the other's hand, sticking his tongue between his fingers, cleaning his phalanges and sucking them just to make sure they were clean. He dared not look him in the eye, not to meet his expression of disappointment or anger. He preferred to think he was doing a good job, deluding himself and cradling himself in this thought, before reopening his eyes again.

When he opened them, while sucking on his little finger, Spikes stared at him, his deep dark circles making his eyes even more disturbing. The mouth was slightly parted, the breath barely hinted at.

That was already the best he could hope to get from him. And it didn't always happen.

Even when they were having sex, Spikes often remained silent, with barely audible moans, let go more by effort than pleasure.

Spikes took him by the hair, strong, making him get off the bed and kneeling in front of him, while the other brought his hands on hims in annoyance. Grumbling in pain, Knuckles lay on the ground, while the other released his erection in front of him, pressing it to his lips, against the tooth-shaped tattoo he had.

"Keep licking."

"Spikes ..."

Spikes grabbed the other's hair firmly behind the back of his neck, pushing him against his cock, making it reach his throat in an instant, starting to fuck his mouth with a fast, violent rhythm. The other clung to his hips, trying to stop him or at least to slow down his rhythm, tightening his eyes tightly in the effort not to end up strangled, but also not to hurt him with his teeth.

"... I told you a thousand times ..."

Spikes increased his thrusts even more, taking his head with both hands.

"... you don't have to …"

Knuckles was holding back, risking vomiting on him, unable to breathe or stop him in any way.

"... do what they tell you."

Spikes tilted his head back, enjoying his high-pitched, painful moans. Knuckles wasn't afraid of being weak, and this was something Spikes hated to die. But that envied, too. Deeply and secretly.

Spikes continued to fuck his face, without looking at him again, until he freed himself in an orgasm that filled his mouth and that also let him vent that secret worry he didn't want to reveal. That of having seen him injured, afraid that it could be serious, irremediable. To remain without a partner, without a sidekick, without someone.

Without him.

He let him go, stepping out of him who stepped back against the wall, swallowing the sperm and starting to cough, slowly catching his breath. He looked at him, his chest continuing to jump, agitated and under strain. Spikes also panted, giving it less to see, staying longer.

Generally, after those moments, Spikes jumped on him, hugging him and kissing him, devouring him without hurting him, or at least not intentionally. He made him his all night, until it was morning again and they smoked the first joint, understanding how to exploit the spoils of the day before.

It would have gone this way again, if someone hadn't started to giggle in a low hoarse voice.

"Two kittens licking each other ... Have you ever seen a more tender thing?"

The two Mortys spun around, looking towards the window hidden by the bins. Two Ricks had entered and were watching them, entered their territory without even noticing.

"They seem more like two sewer rats to me ..."

As Spikes pulled up his pants, Knuckles turned to the bed, grabbing a knife and pointing it at the intruders: the Rick were faster, hitting him with an electric shock that made him tremble on the floor. Spikes grunted angrily, pulling a knife from his sleeve and throwing it straight in the face of one of the two Rick, who managed to move in time. His smile shone in the night, along with the gold tooth he had. He had long hair gathered in a pigtail and a barely hinted beard. The other, however, had the classic, thick and disheveled hair of a Rick, but a hysterical, heated look, as if under the effect of powerful stimulants.

Spikes threw himself against the Rick with the golden tooth, ready to fight them to give Knuckles time to recover, but the other stopped him, grabbing his neck and crushing him against the wall, choking him while he wriggled, scratching his hand to break free.

"I told you that following them would be fun ..."

"Fucking l-leave me ..." Spikes said, as he choked slowly, trying to kick one of the two Rick, who grinned excitedly.

"Mortytown is always my favorite destination."

Rick let him go, letting him slide against the wall, while he coughed, looking at him, with bloodshot eyes made even more disturbing, again, by dark circles. Knuckles was slowly beginning to recover from the shock before one of the two Ricks came up to him and took him by the hair, just as Spikes had done earlier. He lifted him completely, slamming him on the bed.

"NO!" Spikes got up, receiving a knee in the stomach from the other Rick, who remained close to him, who made him bend again on the floor.

"Oh ... You must be the man of the house, huh?" the Rick grinned, before the other squeezed Knuckles' face against the sheet, causing him to clap his fists to free himself, to be able to breathe.

"Your wife looks a little nervous, though. We could take care of it... "

The gold-toothed Rick let go of Knuckles, who took a deep and urgent aspiration, bordering on asphyxiation. Then, he folded his arm behind his back, bringing the boy towards him.

"W-what the fuck do you want ?! It's all on the table, take it and get the fuck off! " Spikes growled, holding his stomach that was writhing in pain.

“Do you really think we might want that shit? You Morty always underestimate us ... "

"What do you want, then?" said Knuckles, who had a broken voice, much less angry than Spikes' and more frightened. His arm was hurting, while the other Rick smelled his hair, moving one hand on his flat stomach.

“Maybe you don't remember it, but a few days ago your friend stoled us money. We saw two little tigers playing around, we recognized them and we couldn't resist ”.

While Knuckles moaned in fear for that Rick who was going to touch his private parts under his pants, Spikes was looking for an escape, a plan, something to turn the situation around and put those Rick back in their place.

But the problem is that they were already there. They were above them.

That was the Ricks place.

The cats who played with mices.

That was what Knuckles was thinking about at the moment: a scene that had stuck with him as he walked down the street. A cat that blew a tiny mouse, perhaps a puppy, from one paw to another, as if it were a game and not a living being. He never put it in his mouth, however, he didn't want to eat it. He was playing with it. He continued to play even when it was no longer moving.

Knuckles shivered, feeling the Rick's big hands caressing him, playing with his testicles, weighing them, while the member was still soft and flabby. He whispered in his ear, with a wine alcohol and smoke.

"What is it, baby? You don’t like me?"

Knuckles closed his eyes, shaking his head and holding back tears, disgusted by that contact. It wasn't what he was used to: Spikes could have been even more rude in reality ... but it was him, at least. It was his hands.

"Don't give him satisfaction, Knuckles!" Spikes stood up again, distracted from thinking of a plan by his partner's moans. He pulled out another knife, directing it lightly against the Rick's eye in front of him: he would have gotten there, if the other had not been so stimulating from being reactive, fast. He took his wrist, tightening it to an inch from his eye, calm and concentrated.

" _Knuckles_? How cute ... How about we break them all? "

Spikes grunted, punching him with his free hand, which was blocked in the same way by that of the other. Rick twisted his wrist, forcing him to release the knife with a grunt of pain. He took his wrists with one hand, bringing him against the wall and crushing his face in profile against the wall, forcing him to look at his partner and the man who was touching him. Spikes felt himself boiling. Seeing Knuckles with that expression, that discomfort, that fear in his eyes ... He felt like a God, a bastard God, when he was the one to impose them on him. But now, it was different.

He was helpless, just like Knuckles was in front of him. He had taught him to defend himself, and now he had collapsed like nothing had been, knocked out in less than a second.

Tears of anger stung his eyes: he had failed. He had failed to protect him.

The Rick who was pressing him against the wall, took his cheeks between his fingers, just shaking his head: "Oh, no ... Don't cry, baby. We promise you that you will like it ... a little bit. "

Spikes growled, biting his finger to blood, squeezing it and feeling the ferrous taste of blood, only letting go when the Rick pulled his wrist until he almost dislocated it.

"Little shit ..."

He pushed him back against the wall, forcing him to look at Knuckles again, while simultaneously pressing his hard and large erection against his butt. He must have turned him on.

"Do you like violent?" Spikes said, provoking him; if he could not do anything, at least he could maintain dignity and make it difficult for him.

"You don’t know how much…"

The Rick on the bed unbuttoned his pants, revealing his swollen and turgid erection, moving Knuckles over him, his face turned towards Spikes. He spread his legs, starting to press against his opening, hungry: the boy began to moan with pain, unable to look at Spikes in the eyes and to read his disappointment.

"Fuck, he's very tight ..." the Rick, without letting go of his arm, went to enlarge his narrow and small anus with a finger.

"If he only took his cock, he was used to other dimensions..." the Rick behind Spikes continued to push against him, to make him feel the real difference between their erections.

"But I'm used to something else ... Why don't you fuck me instead of that pussy?"

Knuckles finally looked up, in a gasp, worried that he had betrayed the other's expectations. To have failed again against life. Spikes wasn't even looking at him, trying to look at the Rick behind him.

"I can take you both together."

"And where would the fun be?" the Rick chuckled, biting his ear hard, with the sole intention of hurting him; "But remember this promise later ... The night is long."

A scream from Knuckles broke the silence of the night: the Rick had entered him completely, without waiting for him to be ready. The boy screamed, biting his lips in an attempt to restrain himself, being moved vertically by the only hand of the Rick who was holding his thigh, heedless, pressing precisely on the wound that had begun to bleed again.

"What the fuck are you waiting for? Why don't you fuck him? " he said, panting fiercely as he entered and exited Knuckles violently.

The other Rick snapped his tongue, shaking his head: "It excites me much more to see this mouse so pissed as we steal his game ..."

Knuckles had tears streaming down his cheeks, while Spikes stared at the penis that came and went in, suddenly covered in blood. He began to growl furiously, moving so hard that his shoulder almost came out, putting a strain on the Rick who was still holding him with one hand on his neck.

"LEAVE HIM! LEAVE IT, MOTHERFUCKER! "

"The little lion is pissing off ..."

In a guttural verse, the Rick came into Knuckles, with the sperm mixing with the blood, sliding along the rod. The boy lowered his head, mortified and destroyed, unable to look at his companion, but at the same time happy that all this had happened to him, and not to the other. Yes, Spikes could have endured it better. But it didn't mean anything.

It was always he who got the most ungrateful tasks, the hardest blows, the most injuries, the most dangers. It was always Spikes who took care of him. If he could take this pain for him now, he was happy.

It was with that thought that he finally looked at him, smiling through tears, relieved despite the humiliating and painful situation.

"It's-it's all o-ok, Spikes ..."

"Spikes? Ooooh, that's your name? " the Rick took Spikes’ long hair, making his back arch with a snarl, forcing him to look him in the eye as he stood over him. The erection against his buttocks pushed him harder, with the Rick’s pants starting to get wet. "I wonder why ..."

Finally, the gold-toothed Rick came out of Knuckles, taking him off and throwing him back on the bed. Spikes could see his opening, unnaturally enlarged, stained with blood. The wound on his leg continued to flow, staining their entire mattress. _Their_ mattress. Where that piece of shit was sitting now.

"Oooh, now that I look him in the face, I recognize these signs" Rick took Knuckles' face between his fingers, squeezing his cheeks in turning him to look at him better; "You are the Locos, aren't you?"

The "signs" were their tattoos of belonging: Spikes had one above his eyebrow, which covered a large scar. Those of Knuckles were more evident; one covered half of his face, while the other continued his mouth, with teeth-like marks.

It was this last detail that inspired the Ricks.

“Who the fuck did you think you were imitating? The Joker? "

The Rick behind Spikes tied his hands, with what appeared to be handcuffs. He would not be surprised to find out that it was some corrupt police officer who gave them to him: the Ricks were all the same.

He hit Spikes in the knee, making him fall to the ground and pulling out a collar, which made him want to vomit: only a madman hang out carrying something like that. He tied it tightly around his neck, hooking it to the heavy steel table behind them, leaving him there on the ground to wriggle, angrily. Immediately, he lost his breath: it was impossible to pull that table, it was too heavy. He was choking to no avail.

While the gold-toothed Rick took Knuckles back into his arms, carrying him half naked in front of him, the other squeezed his mouth, looking at him with tiny, very small pupils, bloodshot eyes.

"It’s real luck that this beautiful little face is always smiling ..."

The Rick turned to Spikes, grinning.

"... Even without teeth."

A very strong punch hit Knuckles' cheek, making him spit saliva and blood and making Spikes scream like an obsess, while he continued to jerk the table, like a mad dog that risked breaking his neck.

Knuckles barely held his head, having totally absorbed the blow; the Rick on which he was sitting took his chin between his fingers, to be able to show it to his companion, who seemed displeased.

"... Hmm, no. Strange, I thought the milk teeth were much less resistant. "

Another punch, given on the other cheek: this time two teeth really came out, colliding with the wall.

"NO! STOP! STOP, FUCK, STOP! LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

Knuckles had half-closed eyes, half-conscious in the pain of that moment: they were destroying him and they would not stop until they killed him. The only thing he could focus on was Spikes' voice: hearing it, in that delirium of fear, unconsciousness and pain, was the only thing that kept him attached to reality. The only thing that somehow reassured him, still feeling him there with him. Close.

"S-Spikes ..." he whispered, without even realizing it, with his mouth smeared with blood. Spikes gritted his teeth, feeling the tears running down his cheeks, for the firm awareness of not being able to do anything, of not being able to save him and, perhaps, of seeing him die before his eyes without even trying to save him. And it was his fault.

It was he who had robbed those Rick days ago. Now he remembered them.

His delusion of omnipotence had led him to challenge the wrong enemies, someone who could not beat.

He hated them, but the desire to be a Rick, invincible, was so strong that it had led him to make a shit about which he could not have control.

And now Knuckles was dying before him.

Another punch stained the wall with blood, splashing it, while Knuckles looked like a lifeless puppet, in the hands of the worst executioners.

The Rick rubbed his aching hand, turning to Spikes, who was drooling with anger, barely breathing because of the collar.

"Do you want to participate, baby? We're not done with him yet, though ... "

Both Rick simultaneously raised, coordinated, Knuckles' legs, widening them again. The gold-toothed Rick, with the boy in the middle, began to unbutton the other's pants, releasing his completely wet erection. Spikes thanked Knuckles for being unconscious at the time, for not knowing what was going to happen. He wished he was too.

"The mouse is sleeping ... Let's wake him up, or he'll miss the whole party."

The gold-toothed Rick smiled at him maliciously as the other pulled something out of his pocket. The heart stopped when Spikes saw it: it was a taser. He began to shake his head, spelling a no that didn't even reach his lips.

“Small children go to bed early. But let's make an exception for tonight. "

Rick approached the taser to Knuckles, electrocuting his testicles and making him scream in pain, with the highest voice ever, typical of Morty, but very high even for them. He woke up immediately, opening his eyes wide, while the Ricks laughed in unison, bad and ruthless. Another shock, which made him cry, breaking him, begging them to stop. Knuckles, even during sex with Spikes, wasn't ashamed to say when he couldn't take it anymore. He was not afraid of showing himself weak, suffering, human. It didn't belong to him.

It was Spikes who could not let go of any feeling, to show no weakness. He always said it, _if life is hard, you have to be harder._

But what did a phrase like that mean at the time, as two too large erections pushed against him, forcing him to get inside?

Nothing.

Knuckles no longer saw through tears, he only felt himself split in two, being squeezed by hands too big for him. He looked at Spikes, trying to think of him as it happened, to pretend he wasn't there, that he wasn't the one on the bed between two Ricks. He looked at him, blinking to see him better, while tears ran down his cheeks, watching him move, watching him ...

Knuckles frowned, before noticing the absurd position Spikes was in and what he was holding.

"AH!" a shot and the Rick in front of him looked at him, with the pupil finally becoming wider as he slumped to the ground. The gold-toothed Rick watched his companion fall, before hearing another shot, with a bullet that hit his foot; he made the mistake of getting up, causing Knuckles to fall to the ground and free himself from the hostage who could have saved him. A third shot and he also fell to the ground.

Suddenly, the room fell into silence after all those screams. The stench of sweat and blood was indescribable, unbearable, but Knuckles could barely feel it.

On the ground, trembling and aching, full of wounds, he crawled towards Spikes, with his chin that never stopped beating. He came close to him, seeing that between his bound and swollen hands he had their only gun.

"S-Spikes ..."

"Why the fuck didn't you tell me where it was?! You hid it the last time, it was under the chest of drawers for the whole fucking time! NEAR ME! WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T YOU TELL ME? "

Knuckles' teeth, the ones left, continued to beat faster, while his chest jumped with fear, with anxiety, while he stammered apologies towards the hoarse and suffocated voice of the other, making like that by the collar still closed on him. With trembling hands, Knuckles unfastened it, seeing the deep red marks on the other's skin. He helped him to get up, while he went to look for the keys in the pockets of the lifeless Rick on the ground, also freeing him of the handcuffs. There, the signs were no better.

Spikes rubbed his wrists, finally free, kicking the Rick who had tied him up in the face, until his skull broke under his blows. Knuckles silently hugged himself, collapsing back to the ground and starting to cry again.

Spikes finally stopped: everyone was letting off steam in their own way, according to their different dispositions. One with anger, the other with fear.

Again, they found themselves in their room, alone despite the two corpses. Just the two of them again. Against everyone, again.

But now they seemed to be against each other.

Spikes clenched his fists, breathing deeply: Knuckles had undergone all that, and the first thing he had done was to scream at him, blaming him, making him the executioner of himself. Telling him that he was wrong again, and that he hadn't been able to defend himself.

In this, Spikes was the same as the Ricks.

Identical, if not worse.

Sighing deeply, he leaned towards him, swallowing for the pain in his throat. He raised his face, noticing the missing teeth and seeing his giant eyes, full of tears. Afraid, even by him. Just as he had been afraid of them.

They remained silent for who knows how long, before Knuckles swallowed his own blood, trying to speak.

"S-sor-"

"You've been good".

Was that being strong? Was that being powerful?

Give someone else something back? Spurring him, being proud of him?

He bit his lips as he wiped away a Knuckles’ tear, looking at his shocked, amazed and incredulous eyes.

"You've been good..."

Knuckles felt another tear fall on his cheek, before his chin started to tremble again and he lowered his gaze.

"D-don't fucking cry."

Spikes approached him, kissing him, while Knuckles moved away: Spikes knew he was doing it because it must have been disgusting to kiss him now that he had uncovered gums, because of the lost teeth.

Spikes tightened his grip on his chin, kissing him, with a passion unlike any other. With a fear that was finally let go, thanking the universe for still having him there, alive. With a desperation in having almost lost him, holding him tightly, regardless of his injuries.

Finally venting himself and his emotions.

They kissed for hours, until both of them calmed down, falling asleep on the ground, next to those Ricks who could no longer hurt them.


	2. Piece of Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when the Morty locos felt safe again to run frreely on the streets of the rotten Morty Town their luck changes due to a misfurtunate encounter with a corrupted Guard Rick, who will save these poor souls?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains Fictional NonCon situations, rape and abuse from a Rick towards Mortys, please read at your own discretion, non of these characters are real and the mere purpose is not other than to entertain.

\----------------------------------------------------------

Guards of the citadel, brave, active and loyar members of law. They assure you to have peace and order in that forsaken place. If it is true all citizen are the same in appearance they can be so different in behaviour. some good and peaceful, to the edge of imbeciles, but some others evil and willing to break rules, pue anarchist unworth of the citadel floor.

Ricks have all the right to mischief, they are Ricks afterall, what’s wrong is Ricks making Mortys feel secure, they are livestock, not some kind of equals, these new laws are a joke to what the force used to be, protecting the cattle? what’s this? the wild west?

Guard Rick was patrolling near the Pocket Mortys Daycare, now that was his Disneyland, all weakened unwanted Mortys, Guard Rick salivates everytime the Mortys moan in pain when transporting or merged together, he have masturbated in the back door just hearing those pitiful broken voices. Sometimes he lures those forgotten Mortys to him and rape them, they are so many and never claimed, it was easy to kidnap and sell them wholesale.

He has different clients but he has managed to make good partnership with a Shibuya Rick, that guy was even crazier than him, but they both agree on one thing: Mortys are good entertaining.

He was patrolling Morty Town, it was a low class job, patrol as if he was a mere cop, but he always volunteer to do so, people on his squad knows the reason, but they have no proof, Guard Rick has been famous for the dark rumors around him *Don’t let your morty alone with him* that’s what they say. Rumors like he kills Mortys for sport, he rapes mortys, he charges mortys for things they didn’t do… those were all false accusations! He was way worse than that.

Always alone, he walked Morty Town streets, he can never maintain a good partner, they always leave, they always run, they sometimes disappear or die, but there are never proof that prove that this Guard kills them. He’s a Good guard, never leaves mark, never leaves trace, never leaves witnesses, and he was proud of his job.

His slow walk stopped by some high pitched noises, like mice, like Mortys.

Guard Rick approached silent to the allew where the squeaking came from, he knew that sound, he has hear it so many times: Mortys Fucking. 

As silent and quick as he is he took his second phone and opened the camera, he spot them, two Morty Locos doing it behind a trash bin, Guard Rick entered the abandoned building and slipped upstairs, silent and cautious he started recording them from a small window above. this was the kind of things he loved about Morty Town, homeless and lost Mortys seeking the others heat, it was like watching twins making out, and the Locos are known for their aggressiveness and rough ways, these, they are no exception. 

one of them had long hair wrapped in a messy bun, he was the obvious dominant, he owned the other Morty, pinned the short haired Morty with a larger tattoo against the garbage bin, the weakest Morty crying and moaning while the other was using him. The perfect picture for 2 ruined Mortys, Guard Rick started to touch himself, he loved to watch them doing that kind of things, there was a deviant feeling of spy on the infinite versions of their grandsons pleasuring each other, Guard Rick loves it that much that he has his own amateur Morty Porn producer. there was something about spy them, some small details you’ll never see if they know you are there, like them, that dominan Morty, he was thrusting so deep and rough inside his equal, keeping the other’s head down against the bin, but with a hidden purpose, he doesn’t want his sexual toy to face him because that long haired Morty was crying, there was so much hurt in that face, it was obvious he wanted things to be different, his tears were yelling apologizes to his forced partner.

Guard rick was masturbating while recording about to finish by that pitiful scene but the abrupt sound of cop sirens passing at high speed to who knows where alerted the stronger morty making him look around and spotting Rick above, a camera, the morty immediately alerted his partner and they both tried to run while accommodating their pants but Guard rick shoot them both with his shock ray; that gun has been his best friend for so many years.

Rick jumped from the window to the garbage bins to the floor, he knew from all his experience: use the weakest and the stronger will surrender, and he lifted the short haired loco and cuffed him to a loose pipe in the wall, the other one cuffed both hands behind his back, they both were unconscious, they are so weak but is still a good chance. Rick went to the short haired Morty and started recording while undress him, lence on, while he takes out those dirty and ripped clothes to reveal a more innocent body, Rick opened the mouth of the sleepy boy, a little disgusted he noticed this morty had few teeth missing, better keep the mouth shut. touching the body looking for marks or particular signs apart of the large face tattoo and fight scars, he was a normal Morty, he couldn’t waste the chance and as if he was a doll rick maneuver the boy to put him in a suggestive posture, legs wide open, both arms lifted and secured at the pipe. he was so beautiful, Rick took a full video and some photos, a good set to put on sale, marvelous close ups, he even took a video fingering the unconscious body, he was so tight, it was obvious for him that he has no Rick partners, or that seemed like. 

The long haired Morty was struggling to wake up, “K-knuckles…?” 

“Hmmm, your pet name is Knuckles?” an old voice sounded making him fully awake, stand up but falling immediately, noticing his arms are cuffed he looked around looking for his equal, and how he wishes not finding him, but the sight in front of him was a crying Knuckles being abused and filmed

“S-spikes…” Knuckles whimpered, he was moving weakly trying to avoid the bad touch, but it was all useless since Rick was almost fisting him under the camera lens. 

“L-LET HIM ALONE!” Spikes yelled in mad fury running towards rick but the old guard took him by the neck with no effort, it was a good thing thought because rick left knuckles to grab him, but immediately forced spikes upon knuckles naked body.

  
  


“finish what you were doing” Rick orderer to the mortys pointing with a real gun this time “You don’t need to actually do it, just, you know, rub and stroke against each other and that stuff, I know a lot of people who like that.”

Spikes looked at him with full anger, aware of the dangers of a guard rick with a gun, he could only try to cover knuckles body with his own from that pervert. 

“AHH!” Knuckles yelled by the ray gun against his shoulder, it was too fast, when did he, Spikes looked to knuckles bleeding to face again the guard but this time the gun was just on his head, there was no option but to obey, that was clear, but why? why things always have to be like this?! why they always take advantage of his lover? it was his idea to do it there in the garbage bins, why couldn’t he wait until their hidden home like Knuckles asked him? It was always his fault, his desire of control and power that Knuckles has to suffer, why Ricks always have to be this perverted? a fight between mortys always punches and bites, blood everywhere but their decency intact, why Ricks always have to rape them? Isn’t enough for the old men that they are already living a hell because of them? disposable grandsons suffering alone after used, why to add more pain? why can’t they love each other without being abused?

along with this thoughts spikes did what he hates the most: obey. 

Guard rick helped him to look more appealing to the camera, and why not, future fans, he sure will make this a series, Spikes completely naked, hair down and tears on his humiliated eyes started to do what Rick said, he was being slow, didn’t wanted to do it and rick decided he was such a bad actor.

“Maybe you need a little bit of inspiration” Rick said changing his gun target from spikes to knuckles. panic filled the boys making spikes put more effort on what he was doing, stroking his body against the other, the Rick seemed to enjoy when the pink nipples moved with the rub of the other, their morty balls masturbating one against the other, Spikes moves his hips as best as he could thinking that the slightest error may cost his beloved partner's life.

"Kiss" The guard Rick ordered with a twisted smile "I want to see your toungues tasting each other"   


Spikes hessitated, tightening his fists, feeling useless and meaningless, his most sacred ritual: Kissing Knucles, ruined by this asshole, Spikes turned to Knuckes, hips still moving, he approaches the other's face, Spikes kissed that sobbing mouth, they both started to kiss, awkward forced kisses between sobings, making wet noises while drooling saliva,  it felt bad, dirty, wrong, they've been together so many times but this time he just wanted to finish, make that rick satisfied and make him go. 

*SNAP*

The sound of a camera and a flash took all their attention, Guard rick turned worried, someone just took him a picture. evidence, proof, he better do something, those Mortys…

But it was no morty. a Rick instead. A Rick slightly taller than the average, square shoulders framed with a long dark robe, long hair and pointy beard, they looked alike, but there was something special in this Rick, his clothes were tidy and clean, he didn’t belonged to Morty Town. but, that Rick was carrying paper bags with food? groceries? how bizarre...

“What? you want to join the show?” The guard Rick laughed pointing his 2 locos who hid his embarrassment on each others neck ready to be more humilliated.

“Why don’t you leave them alone?” The taller Rick spoke, he walked to them, back straight, poker face, but there was something intimidating. “I thought my bribes covered this zone.”

Guard Rick felt cautious, bribes? who was this guy? 

“I am not a cop” he said proudly “Whatever you are paying, doesn’t cover my services.” Guard Rick was used to the illegal activities, corrupted businesses, maybe this was his whore zone, a pimp? he doesn’t look like one… he looked religious but a religious Rick, that was all a joke.

“I am Father Rick, and I take care of homeless Mortys in this area. you better leave.” Father approached again standing between the Mortys and the Guard “I’m sure our new laws permit this behavior no more.” 

Father Rick, that name, he knows it, his best client told him about this Rick, activist for Morty Rights, adopts them in his church, gives them jobs, food and home… the perfect looser. But guard never imagined that Rick was this intimidating, he always pictured a doofus Rick, a jerry-like piece of garbage…

Father took his robe off and covered the naked mortys, they were scared and frightened of his Rick hands, Father knew this so he stepped aside leaving them covered with his expensive velvet and silk robe.

“And, how much are you going to pay me for this?” Guard Rick asked pointing his raygun toward Father Rick, the taller didn’t moved nor changed his expression.

“How about i let you go with a warning of never come back? I have enough evidence for you to pass the rest of your savage live in prison” Father Rick said, no fear on his face.

“Wrong answer” Guard grinned and pulled his trigger, but nothing happened, his gun was disabled, Guard took his other gun and again, nothing… that was odd… Guard tried to contact his fellow guards using his walkie talkie but just white noise, there was a strange vive coming from Father, the air was viced, not a single noise, and Guard’s hands started to bleed. “W-what?!” He looked at father he felt dizzy and gagged, his eyesight went blurry “What did you did to me?” 

“I just asked you to leave, and never come back” Father stood immobile, the locos were looking at them, not sure what was happening, but Spikes knew, a Rick defending them? what was this madness? and he attacked the guard somehow without moving, it looked like some kind of miracle.

“You are going to pay for this…” the guard said, a real threat, he was accepting his defeat but he was going to make sure Father will have a punishment. and as if it never happened Guard rick retrieve and left them, he had his video anyway, and if it’s true that Father Rick owns the area he could get in trouble…

When the area was safe a trio of Mortys appeared, good dressed mortys approached the two locos, they helped them to uncuff and offered help to get them dressed, all with Father not looking at their naked bodies, one of the mortys helped them with the clothes, the other with the wound from the gun, good, clean, real medicines, nice and soft bandages in pastel yellow with cute morty patterns, the third morty approached father taking his hand covered in latex gloves, kissing the hand, Spikes looked at that and would felt disgust if it wasn’t for the blood dripping from the Rick hand, when did he injured his hand?

“Father always bleed when he makes his miracles” one of the mortys helping with the bandages said calmly, “He’s always helping us, but he always sacrifices himself for us… He’s a total different kind of Rick.” 

Spikes was stunned, what kind of Rick was that? just looking at him was enough to notice that strange aura, a Rick that used Miracles and not science, a Rick who helped Mortys, a Good Rick.

Rick turned around when his mortys told him they were fully dressed again, he was so polite and his voice was soft, almost a lullaby that bring back better days, that gives hope. “I’m so sorry for this happened to you” he said taking again his paper bag, approaching the locos, but not much, kneeling to be at their level, Father gave them the bag “I know the streets are difficult, If you ever need help, or just a warm and dry place to sleep feel free to come by” one othe Mortys gave father one of his flyers, “My church is always open, I understand the las ting you want to see is a Rick, I will stay at my distance, the church is always full of Mortys, don’t be afraid, we can help you.”

And with these words Father stood and left, walking with his 3 Mortys following him, but not as usual Rick and Mortys, they were aside him, holding hands, laughing, pure love on his eyes, there was no fear, there was no doubts, there was no harm…

Spikes looked at them go, unable to leave these feelings, then looked at Knuckles, his loved ray of sun, he would be safe there, no other Rick would try to harm him there, it sounded like paradyse. 

“Wow look spikes!” Knuckles said looking to the bag “Real food! and fresh too! look ! medicines! and look! this toilet paper is soft!!” Knuckles was about to cry, they were going to have a good meal that night, they had medicines, bandages, disinfectant, water and juice, when was the last time the had something like that without bobbing it? 

Spikes made up his mind. He was going to give Knuckles a little bit of that heaven.


End file.
